Get Smart 1 - Get Smart! (13 page)

“That door is made of steel!” Blossom said. “That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

“Hard steel, too,” Max said painfully, rising.

“We’re lost!” Blossom cried.

“Not yet, we aren’t,” Max said. “I still have my wits.” He picked up the intercom transmitter and spoke into it. “Attention! Captain 49 is wanted in his cabin! The prisoners are ready to talk!”

“Talk what?” Blossom said. “He didn’t even ask us anything.”

“If I know my FLAG agents, he’ll be in here like a shot,” Max said. “They’re nosy, the whole lot of them. Just let them hear that somebody somewhere is ready to talk, and you couldn’t keep them away with a team of horses. Curiosity, I guess.”

There was a sound at the door, then suddenly it flew open.

Captain 49 rushed in. “Who? Who? Who?” he said. “Who said what?”

“I said it,” Max replied. “I said, ‘Your number’s up, 49!’ ”

And, so saying, Max grasped 49 by the wrist, and, using his favorite jujitsu grip, flung him back over his shoulder. Captain 49 struck the wall, and slid to the floor, unconscious.

“Quick—to the torpedo room,” Max said. “We’ve only minutes to spare!”

They dashed from the Captain’s cabin, rushed through the tunnel-like corridors of the sub, and, minutes later, reached the torpedo room. Fortunately, there was no guard at the hatch.

“Inside,” Max said, beckoning to Blossom and Fang.

“Now what?” Blossom said.

“That torpedo!” Max said. “First, we’ll behead it!”

“Behead it?”

“I’m not sure what the technical term is,” Max said. “What I mean is, we’ll take the explosive charge off the front end.”

“Oh . . . disarm it, you mean.”

“Which just goes to show how little you know about it,” Max said. “Whoever heard of putting the explosive in the arm—it’s in the head!”

“Rorff!”

“Fang is right,” Max said. “We can discuss terminology later. Right now, there’s a job to be done.” He approached the front end of the torpedo. “Anybody had any experience with these things? I saw a guy do this in a movie once—but he flubbed it and blew the whole sub to smithereens.”

“That part there—the part that looks like a chocolate cream—I think that’s where the explosive is,” Blossom said. “I think you unscrew it. I saw that in a movie, too.”

“And what happened?” Max said.

She looked suddenly downcast. “I guess it was the same movie,” she said.

“Rorff!”

“Oh, was that it?” Max said.

“What did he say?”

“He said the mistake the guy in the movie made was, he unscrewed it clockwise, when he should have unscrewed it counterclockwise. Fang tried to tell him that during the movie, but the guy wouldn’t listen.”

“Hurry!” Blossom said.

Max began unscrewing the head of the torpedo—counterclockwise. After a few seconds it came loose. Gingerly, he placed it on the floor. “Now then, which part is the explosive?” he said.

“That part that says DANGER?” Blossom suggested.

“Who knows?” Max said. “This is a foreign torpedo—DANGER might mean PRIVATE.”

“Can’t we just leave the whole head off?”

“Somebody would be bound to notice. No, we’ll take a chance and leave out this DANGER part. It stands to reason that even if DANGER means PRIVATE, it’s still the explosive. Nobody wants anybody fooling around with their explosive.”

“Will you
hurry!”
Blossom said.

“Easy does it. You don’t make a mistake with these things twice.”

Cautiously and carefully, Max removed the section labeled DANGER. Step by wary step he moved away from the torpedo, then dumped the part into a wastebasket.

“I hope nobody drops a lighted cigarette in there,” he said, returning.

“Now, what about us?” Blossom said.

“We’re leaving the sub,” Max said. “Crawl in.”

“In? In where?”

“Into the torpedo,” Max said. “It’s our passage to freedom. When they fire the torpedo, they’ll shoot us out with it.”

“But it looks so cramped!”

“Rorff!”

Max chuckled. “Very good, Fang.”

“What say?”

“He said it’ll be just like riding the subway. Get it? Under water, submarine, subway.”

Blossom groaned. “Ladies first, I suppose,” she said.

“That’s the American way,” Max replied.

Blossom slid into the torpedo, feet first. Fang crawled in next. Then Max followed, and, from inside, replaced the torpedo head.

“I see by my radium dial that it’s close to five-ish,” Max said. “Something should happen soon.”

A few seconds later, they heard voices. They recognized the voice of Captain 49.

“Are we ready to fire, Captain?” asked a seaman.

“Shoot, shoot, I don’t care,” Captain 49 said, sounding sick. “I’ve got a splitting headache.”

The trio inside the torpedo felt it being lifted, then slipped into the tube.

“You—what are you doing there!” they heard the Captain growl.

“Just lighting up, Captain,” another voice said.

“No smoking around a torpedo!” the Captain said. “Throw that cigarette out!”

“Yes, sir. Where’ll I throw it?”

“In the wastebasket, you fool! Am I the only one around here who can do any thinking!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ready to fire, Captain!”

“So shoot, already!”

There was a shattering explosion! The torpedo ripped forward, slicing into the water!

“Well, it’s clear sailing from here on out!” Max said cheerily to his crew.

T
HE TORPEDO
struck the U.N. Building with a thud that knocked the head off. Max’s own head emerged. He looked around, got his bearings, then squinted toward the river. Neither periscope nor submarine could be seen.

Max crawled out and climbed to dry land, followed by Blossom and Fang.

“It’s raining,” Blossom commented.

“It’s hailing,” Max corrected.

“Rorff!”

“By cracky, he’s right,” Max said.

“What say?”

“He says it’s hailing orange ping-pong balls.”

Blossom nodded. “He’s right, all right. How strange.”

“Not so strange,” Max said. “In fact, it explains quite a lot—it explains the whole summer of ’61. I distinctly remember Captain 49 now. He was the FLAG agent who was smuggling those orange ping-pong balls. We thought his purpose was to upset the orange market in Florida. But, all along, this is what he had in mind—a new-fangled submarine.”

“I don’t think I understand,” Blossom said.

“That submarine—that’s what kept it afloat. Its hull was filled with orange ping-pong balls. That’s why it’s hailing ping-pong balls now. Apparently when that seaman dropped his cigarette into the wastebasket, it . . . well, it’s too gruesome to discuss.”

“Very sad,” a voice agreed.

They turned and found Boris standing behind them.

“Yes, they were good men,” Max said. “Rotten to the core, but good men, nevertheless.”

“The men I won’t miss,” Boris said. “But the submarine, that’s a different story. When the submarine went, there went my ride home. You ever tried hitchhiking across the Atlantic Ocean?”

“Especially hitch-hiking with a robotnapped computer,” Max said. “What have you done with Fred?”

Boris grimaced. “Don’t even mention that name. He may have the world’s finest brain, but, to go with it, he’s got a cheatin’ heart. I’ll never trust him again.”

“What did he do?” Blossom said curiously.

“I don’t like to talk about it,” Boris said morosely.

“Ah, come on,” Max said. “That’s the best thing to do—talk about it, get it out of your system.”

A tear rolled down Boris’s cheek. “I made him such beautiful promises,” he said. “ ‘Come with me,’ I told him. ‘Live in the land where every man is equal, each and every one a servant of the State.’ I promised him everything. He could have lived like a czar.”

“And he said no?”

Boris nodded. “He said no. I didn’t mind that. That, I expected. It was all lies, anyway, everything I promised him. What saddens me is his ingratitude. After all my promises, he done me dirty. Just as I was about to shove him in front of a speeding automobile, he . . .” Overcome, Boris began to weep.

“Buck up, old man,” Max said sympathetically. “What did he do—tell us?”

“He stepped aside,” Boris sobbed.

“Yes . . . and . . . ?”

“I was very near killed,” Boris said. “I went plunging on, right out in front of the speeding automobile. I could have been seriously deceased.”

“The driver stopped the car in time, I assume,” Max said.

“Fortunately, yes,” Boris said. “Unfortunately, however, also in time for Fred to escape. There was a heated discussion with the driver of the car, and when it concluded, Fred had disappeared. I am heartbroken.”

“You’ve been dealt a dirty deal, all right,” Max said.

“I think he had it coming to him,” Blossom said sourly. “I’m just worried about Fred. Poor thing. That girl, trying to dismantle him. And this one, trying to push him in front of a car. And what has he done? His only crime is to have brains and want to lead a quiet, secluded life.”

“No man is an island,” Max said. “And that goes for computers, too. Fred has a duty to participate in all the mayhem and double-dealing that’s known as Life. If he doesn’t like it the way it is, why doesn’t he go back where he came from?”

“You mean back into the kit?”

“Don’t confuse the issue,” Max said. “The point is, Fred has a duty to mankind. He has the brain power to develop the most powerful explosive the world has ever known. It’s the only thing that can save us.”

“I don’t think I understand that,” Blossom said.

“Of course not. You’re a woman.” He turned back to Boris. “Did you, by any chance, see in which direction Fred disappeared?”

Boris shook his head. “I was too busy exchanging numbers with the driver of the car,” he said. “Social Security numbers, telephone numbers, insurance policy numbers, Unemployment Compensation numbers, Draft Board num—”

“Apparently, then,” Max broke in, “we’re right back where we started. We have to figure out where a computer could go to hide. Any ideas?”

“I’ll bet that girl has him, that Noel,” Blossom said.

“Hmmmm . . . I forgot about her. Since 94 turned out to be Captain 49, I suspect that he didn’t take her to Control and turn her over for interrogation. Our problem, then, is to find Noel. Any ideas on that?”

“Why don’t you call her home in Paree, Illinois,” Blossom suggested. “Maybe her family has heard from her.”

Max considered this for a moment, then shook his head. “She didn’t strike me as the type of girl who keeps in touch with her mother.”

Boris sighed. “Well, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I have to report in. If I miss calling headquarters, they worry.”

“See you around,” Max said. “Maybe on the next case.”

“Regards to the fellas at Control,” Boris said, departing.

“Aren’t you awfully friendly, for enemies?” Blossom said to Max.

“Well, we’re all in the same trade. You have to have a certain amount of respect for those FLAG—” He suddenly brightened. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that!”

“Of what?”

“FLAG. Boris. That’s where Boris is going right now—to check with FLAG headquarters.”

“I know. He said that.”

“Yes, but he didn’t say why.”

“Yes, he did. He said—”

“Never believe a FLAG agent,” Max counseled. “They wouldn’t know the truth if it sat down on their corns. The whole kit and kaboodle, they’re a bunch of lying, cheating, unscrupulous—”

“Will you tell me what he’s up to!” Blossom demanded.

“He’s going to call FLAG headquarters, all right. But not just to report in. He’s going to find out where Noel is. She has to report in, too, you know. She’ll advise FLAG of her whereabouts—they worry about them if they don’t know where they are every second.”

“Gee,” Blossom said, “it’s too bad you’re not a FLAG agent. You could call in and find out where Noel is.”

“I think it’s time to stop playing fair and square,” Max said. “If you can’t win on the up and up, then cheat—rule number twenty-three!”

“Rorff!”

“That’s right,” Max said. “That’s rule number twenty-one. Twenty-three is: Never knock Texas.”

“Never knock Texas?”

“We have a large Texas contingent,” Max explained. “They demanded that we insert that rule or they’d secede and start up a Secret Service of their own.”

“All right, I’m sorry I asked,” Blossom said. “How are you going to cheat?”

“I’m going to pretend to be Noel’s mother and go to FLAG headquarters and find out where she is.”

Blossom put a hand to her forehead. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she said.

“Buck up,” Max said. “This is no time to weaken. I think we’re going to crack this case. From here on out it looks like clear sailing.”

“I
know
I’m going to be sick!” Blossom groaned.

At Max’s urging, they hurried to where they had left the car, then drove to a department store. Reaching the store, they made their way to the Womens Wear department.

“I’d like some motherly-looking apparel,” Max said to the clerk, a small, bird-like, motherly-looking woman.

“I think you’re making a mistake,” the clerk said, appraising Blossom. “If you have anything at all, it’s a shame to hide it. Believe me, I know. It’s my motherly-looking clothes, for instance, that make me look the way I do. Would you believe that I’m only twenty-two?”

Max shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Would you believe thirty-four?” the clerk said.

“Try seventy-six,” Max suggested.

“Would you believe seventy-six?”

“I wouldn’t even believe eighty-seven,” Max said. “But that’s beside the point. I don’t want the clothes for her, I want them for me.”

“For a masquerade?” the clerk said. “Or shall I call the police?”

“I think it could be honestly said that it’s for a masquerade,” Max replied. “Now, hop to it, or I’ll forget that you’re a little old lady of twenty-two and complain to the management.”

Approximately a half-hour later, they left the store. Max was now outfitted in an ankle-length housedress of flowered print, flat-heeled slippers, and a straw hat that was decorated with multicolored artificial butterflies. He was carrying a straw purse, into which he had put his pistol.